


Lay me down on a bed of roses

by sprx77



Series: Send me away to the words of a love song [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Anniversary, Domestic, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, EWE, F/F, Femslash February, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, It's happy and I'm happy aight, Loving Marriage, Mokuton, Mokuton User Haruno Sakura, The Author Regrets Nothing, after the war, on mobile so forgive me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-04 17:19:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17902301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sprx77/pseuds/sprx77
Summary: Sakura has studiously planned every facet of her wedding anniversary, down to the food and wine. Every detail has been meticulously handled well in advance. There's only one problem: the fucking flowers.





	Lay me down on a bed of roses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blackkat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/gifts).



> Prompt: Sakura trying to get flowers but everywhere is either closed or too expensive.
> 
> For this year's Valentine's day prompts! For the record my prompts are open in general; no promises I'll get to them but yours may give me a wonderful idea, or I might use it for a warm up drabble. Can't hurt to try.

Sakura has gone to four different flower stalls, all of which are out of even their meager selection by now. The one shop that _is_ open caters to filthy rich civilians. She can’t justify giving that much money to anyone, much less Yamanaka Flowers’ most staunch competitor. A surprise evening isn’t worth putting _that_ expression on Ino’s face when she inevitably finds out.

Even if every other part of the dinner is perfect. The food, the wine, the timing– all suspiciously impeccable. It’s literally. Only. The flowers.

And she can’t get them from Yamanakas’, because keeping a secret from a whole clan of telepaths, even a harmless one, has already involved _weeks_ of effort.

She’s not about to ruin it now.

She’s also not about to let this one piece be out of place for her masterfully executed plan.

Sakura growls hard, grinding her teeth.

Three separate chunin cross the street to avoid walking within five feet of her. It’s oddly sweet, actually, but she shakes herself and forces on her best smile as she turns the corner.

A jonin blanches, all color leaving his face. He disappears with leaves in her wake. Sakura’s knuckles, already itching with the urge to punch all her problems, demand to be cracked.

She does so and suddenly she’s alone on the street.

“Ugh!” The other rookies don’t run from her like this. Neither did the rest of the village, usually– they love her.

She must look particularly annoyed.

It all comes down to the flowers!

How can she not have _flowers_!? It’s _Ino_ and it’s their anniversary. Is she a ninja or isn’t she? She’d split every single hair planning this, ordered the assortment over a month ago.

And for what? The shipment had been waylaid. By _bandits_. Kiri bandits, at that, poaching on the coast of Wave, the warm climate that– she knew from Ino’s pillow talk– grew flowers near year round.

She cursed the flaw in an otherwise perfect plan. Should she have personally escorted the damn cart? There was no way she could have taken off that much time. It was such a pointless thing to happen– agh.

There was going to be a reckoning in Wave as soon as she got the paperwork filed next week. Last time she’d been there, they’d killed all the damn bandits in the area, and she’d been _twelve_ at the time!

For now, though–

“What am I going to do!?” She demanded of the orange sky.

She needed flowers.

It was getting late.

Sakura chewed on her thumbnail, anxious, as she climbed the steps to her modest apartment. Across the street, Naruto’s was decorated with banners and potted plants, mottled colors all around. From the window she saw golden light and heard laughter, the sensor of their team leaning out his window to wave enthusiastically, one arm around Sasuke’s resigned shoulder.

She scowled at them, then sighed, and waved back.

She shut the door behind her, trying not to hear the _thunk_ as a portent of defeat.

Wracking her brain, Sakura tried to think. Flowers, flowers…

Eyes closed tight, she fixed her breathing, went into the calm of battle. She had a mission.

Flowers: where?

Immediately, Ino’s smiling face filled her mindscape, a thousand thousand memories of a little bell jingling and bright grins. Her wife leaning over the counter, chest pressed comically to the glass, feet lifted behind her.

Sparkling eyes, a face so achingly pretty it almost– almost– distracted from the beautiful soul underneath, the devastating looks only a front for the kindest and most amazing person Sakura has ever met.

A myriad of colors and scents, all sweet and familiar and _safe_ like no one in her life ever died, like the village never fell. It’s a place of serenity deep in her heart that pulses with love, even in her memories, and Ino is like the watercolor centerpiece, a hundred different smiles and laughs and unexpectedly cute snorts superimposed over each other in a cacophony of joy.

All the stress rocked out of her shoulders, slowly untensing. Her life was bloody and intense, hands fit for violence no matter how you cut it– either clenched into fists or wrist-deep in a life-threatening wound, bullying a heart into beating– and yet at her center was a core of peace, carved into her with years of teasing words and struggle and love despite conflict.

She let the disappointment flow away. Ino would be happy with her anniversary plans. They’d laugh at how much effort Sakura put into it; they’d eat; and they’d break their record for most amazing night alive, as they did every night they were together.

“I don’t have time to do anything about it, anyway.” She admitted to the blacks of her eyelids, hearing the unmistakable whisper of shinobi-trained feet up the stairs. Like _Hell_ she’d have let her wife come home to an empty house on the fifth anniversary of their wedding night!

And as the doorknob jingles, Sakura can’t help but smile, helplessly fond.

The door opens.

Ino walks in, flawless pink lips already open on a greeting, but she stops. Sakura blinks, staring at pearly white teeth dropped open in shock. And then the rest of the room registers.

Ino drops the bouquet of roses she’d been carrying– because _of course_ she had picked up flowers on her way home; of course, she’s _perfect_ – 

It lands on a sage carpet, previously beige. The roses thump softly against a sea of other flowers; all of Ino’s favorites and then some, all the varieties Sakura’s learned over the years and more. They crawl up the walls in draped vines. They stretch up Sakura’s legs and blossom.

Roses in every color bloom into existence between them, a rainbow path built on impossibilities.

Even through the surprise, peace sings through Sakura’s bones. The nearest flowers sigh open and closed like butterfly wings, like breathing.

“Um. Surprise?” She tries, stunned that her dry mouth makes words.

Ino stares at her for a long, dumbfounded second. Then she throws her head back and laughs, loud and boisterous and uncaring who sees. Sakura’s heart _pounds_ , eyes wide and enthralled. Tiny lilac flowers she doesn’t recognize, but which match her wife’s eyes, stretch shyly onto Ino’s bare arms, contrasting with the sleeveless black shirt she wears because the Yamanaka in ANBU are an open secret, at best.

Ino looks at them and Sakura can’t read her face, but that’s okay, because soon it changes to wonder and then three bold steps and arms wrapped around her, the little purple flowers suddenly near her chin.

“My family is going to make _so_ much money from this.” Ino asserts smugly, smelling like jasmine.

“ _Our_ family,” Sakura corrects automatically, her own hands coming up to rest familiar on Ino’s hips. She shivers. “I’ve got your favorite foods in the kitchen.”

“I don’t care,” Ino smiles.

“And your favorite wine.”

“Baby?” Soft hands push pink hair back from her forehead, dislodging petals as they go. “I don’t _care_.” 

“Oh.” Sakura tries to realize, but Ino is kissing her, and then she’s lifting her wife by the hips because she’s light as a _feather_ , and. Well.

Later, she’ll laugh about this.

And even her hard-to-please clan will admit that nothing could ever beat making love to a Yamanaka on a bed of constantly-blooming flowers.

Best anniversary ever.

**Author's Note:**

> Yep. Mokuton Sakura happily married to her wife Ino, and domestic bliss. I regret nothing. Not even the $50 highway ransom they charged me for the Bluetooth keyboard I churned this out on.
> 
> It was a nonny BUT it's inosaku and domestic bliss so let me just yeet this at my overlord.
> 
> (Edit for typos)


End file.
